


Not Dead, Can't Be Beat

by hallucane



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Comfort Sex, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-03 14:35:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5294987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hallucane/pseuds/hallucane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Started as a short fill for Fallout kink meme, but is growing into a series of bits and pieces, waiting to be cobbled together more coherently.<br/>Tags will be added as they apply.</p><p>MacCready isn't alone. It's a strange thought, but not as strange as the taste that lingers on the back of his tongue. He grins at the thought, just this side of wicked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prove It

**Author's Note:**

> Request was MacCready, Male Sole Survivor, and Oral.

It’d been a day since their confessions in one of Covenant’s few back alleys, and the concept still felt warm but raw, like new skin. Kamil was wiping paint off his fingers onto his slacks, then wiping sweat from his lips with the back of his wrist. The jingle of stolen caps was followed by MacCready clearing his throat, soft but direct, eyes drilling holes into Kamil’s skull from under his cap-mussed hair.  
  
‘Together’ was a new idea. Silently, they each tested this boundary and that, finding almost no occurrences where one would stop the other. Rather than speak to get Kamil’s attention, MacCready started grabbing his shoulder, or the swell of his bicep. He told himself it had nothing to do with feeling the strength there, in the meat of Kamil’s arm. That opened the door for Kamil to start testing where MacCready would allow himself to be touched -- the small of his back became a favorite, where the narrowing of his waist seemed accentuated by lines running inward, flanking his spine. In those moments, Kamil would imagine how they’d look, stripped but in light. His own fingers distinct against MacCready’s pale back, drumming or settled, feeling the the man take each breath.  
  
Kamil shook himself out of it. There were places to go, jobs to finish, homes to scope out and clear. MacCready was there, more swiftly than before, one brow raised. Since he didn’t down with a blank look in return, Kamil let himself sigh. Bad form, when crouched at the corner of a building.  
  
“I’m fine.” It might’ve worked back in Goodneighbor, with MacCready still in his hat and coat, wiping out warehouses on Hancock’s dime, but not now. When MacCready moved his mouth to the side, his beard skewed with it, accentuating his disbelief.  
  
Kamil took that moment to test another limit. His hand moved from the wall to MacCready’s shoulder, pausing for any tenseness, but none came. “Really,” Kamil tried to assure, voice a little deep. He moved to feel MacCready’s cheek, thumb brushing just by his lips.  
  
MacCready was the first to break eye contact. “You know I’m not just gonna take that, right? I’m in this.”  
  
Kamil let his other arm rest on his knee, wrist bent, hand dangling. His head hung a little, too. Seeing the shift, MacCready scooted forward a little, boots scraping the concrete. “What, you want me to prove it or something?”  
  
He’d struck two chords, one high and one dangerously low. Kamil felt himself warm at an insinuation he didn’t quite completely get. MacCready grabbed the wrist of the hand cupping his cheek, to get Kamil’s attention completely back. He let his eyes dart to the contact, his own fingers pale against Kamil’s wrist, the tendons testing to flex. Kamil looked back into MacCready’s eyes, not expecting him to look so intense.  
  
Two steps in a half-crouch had MacCready moving around Kamil, backing him against the wall. “You think I’m not serious?” For how quiet they’d gotten, MacCready’s voice was clear, ringing between Kamil’s ears.  
  
MacCready huffed out through his nose, eyes narrowing just slightly. Kamil backed up just a bit, palm of his free hand pressing against the wall, the other still cupping MacCready’s face. “You sure about this?” His brows drawn, Kamil searched MacCready’s face for some hint of humor, some betraying twitch of a smile. “Not us, I mean, but. This?”  
  
Chest rising with a deep breath, MacCready nodded. “Yeah.” He prowled closer, leaning forward. “Yeah, I am.”

Kamil braced himself for a kiss, knowing it’d be their first, but instead rocked back with the top of MacCready’s head pushing against his chest, thinner fingers working on the belts of his pants and armor. He’d tried to respond, both hands pressing on the wall now, but cool air met the warm skin of his cock. MacCready’s fingers dug around the base, and he let his head fall back.  
  
Just two fumbling strokes were his warning before lips met and pushed against his tip, parting in such a way to pull him in. Kamil bounced his head back against the brick wall behind him, swearing at the sting - but then swearing at the way his body jerked with the pain, pushing deeper into MacCready’s mouth.  
  
Determined, MacCready dug his fingers into Kamil’s thighs. Whispers of tears stung his eyes, but he managed to keep open enough. The blunt head of Kamil’s cock knocked the back of his throat, just for a second. Kamil cursed again, louder.   
  
Shouts rang between the buildings, sending a dark chill down Kamil’s spine. Gunners, Raiders? A fraction of his mind ran the risks, hand clamoring for his pistol, dropped at his side. MacCready was oblivious, focused on his task in hand, drawing back to let his lips drag up the length of it. His fingers stayed wrapped around the root, pushing against Kamil’s pelvis, keeping him angled upwards. Kamil shivered, adrenaline warming his blood.  
  
The crunch of stone around the corner seemed to echo, a spike jammed into his already heightened arousal. MacCready felt him shudder in his mouth, and he dove back down, tongue flattened, pushing up. Sweat slicked the grip of the pistol in Kamil’s hand, raised and aimed just over MacCready’s shoulder, fingers trembling.  
  
It didn’t matter what the next noise was, just that it was louder, closer, impending conflict and climbing risk managing to ricochet off the warmth of MacCready’s mouth, wet and hot, around his cock. Kamil doubled over as he came, fast and early, thick with how long it’d been since he’d had the time to take care of himself. Half of it hit MacCready’s tongue, and he pulled off to force it down his throat, never really mastering the art of swallowing come prettily. It’s then that he saw the gun just beside his head, aimed behind him, voice raising to a wrecked but alarmed shout.  
  
MacCready’s yell snapped Kamil back into the moment, shunting him from the high of his peak back to the danger, the approaching footsteps, all four of them--  
  
Curious eyes follow a long, dark snout around the edge of the building. MacCready swallows a curse, laughs, and then coughs; he sounded a little phlegmy. Kamil let his weight carry him to the ground, knees raised, cock half-hard and drooling, barely shoved back into his slacks. Dogmeat approached carefully, pressing his head into Kamil’s raised palm. Again, he lets his head bounce back against the brick wall, smile wide, breathing deep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always wondered about the reactions when Dogmeat, or another companion, walk by and overhear the post-sex mumbling that happens after you share a bed with someone.


	2. Study: Size Difference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a tiny thing, drawn out when I wasn't able to sleep.  
> Figuring out how to write Kamil's build verses MacCready's lithe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still no spoilers yet, but keeping the tag for when they eventually come.

Kamil loved how MacCready felt underneath him. The man was smaller in stature, sure, but his personality didn’t match his size. He could almost feel himself weighing down on that falsely enlarged ego, pushing in on MacCready from the sides, bleeding into his edges, as he fucked slowly into him. Pressed against MacCready’s ass, hands gripping thinner arms to still them, he drew back with his hips and bent with his lower back so he could keep his chest pressed downward, his weight mostly settled.

Of course, MacCready would try to shift underneath him. Shoulders twist and pull against Kamil’s grip, bending his torso this way and that as if he could wiggle free, but he never tried hard enough for Kamil to let it work. Everything was tentative, testing. Confirming what he already knew, just so he could feel it for himself. Nobody to try and lead, just one life relying on his, with barely any decisions to make. Teeth bared against the mattress, he rocked his hips up and back, forcing Kamil a bit deeper inside him.

It’s almost enough right there to top him off - but then MacCready makes this little whine, pushing out while pushing back, his hole almost suckling at the base of Kamil’s cock. It has to be impossible, he never explains how he does it, but Kamil almost never wants him to, fearing the magic of it might get a little lost. Kamil can’t handle it for long, but he holds off as best as he can, to give the highest yield.

MacCready shudders as he feels it, warm and familiar, both in the slickness and surges of Kamil’s climax within him, and the bulk of Kamil’s exhausted body comes to rest entirely on him. He follows the deep rise and fall of Kamil’s chest, back and shoulders expanding with each breath, and he wraps himself in it. He’s not alone, he thinks. He’s not alone anymore. Not again.


	3. could've gotten more

“Hey--!”

Kamil didn’t stop, even with MacCready waving and shouting, a few yards back. Settlers didn’t always have the caps, and sometimes offered bedspace instead. He would’ve accepted nothing. MacCready, as per usual, didn’t agree. Heavier steps behind him meant the sniper was on the approach, and Kamil timed himself with a spare breath before turning to face him. It’s not like he needed the extra height, but it helped him swallow the urge to more directly quell the increasing loud complaints.

“It’s not just your caps you’re throwing away, here - I work with you, we work for them, I should get paid. I don’t do this for free.”

For all his intent to be serious, and taken seriously, MacCready’s voice was rising in pitch as it did in volume. He never broke into squeaky or child-like territory, but it hovered around his upper register. Each had come to a halt, Kamil staring down and MacCready slightly tilted back, defiant but determined to hold the larger man’s gaze.

While he went on, Kamil sighed, relaxing his shoulders. He didn’t quite allow himself to slouch, but the effort into towering over MacCready lapsed. Finding a break between sentences, he interjected, albeit calmly. “What would you have them give?” He nearly spoke in a sigh, slightly exasperated, but sincere. He continued when it seemed to give MacCready pause.

“If they had the money, they would’ve found someone to hire. We weren’t saving a girl, we were grabbing her necklace, so they had something to bury.” The more he spoke, the more he softened, the weight of his words draining as he went on. “She shouldn’t have died, and she shouldn’t have been taken. They shouldn’t have to pay just to grieve.” Large arms dangled a bit forward, as his back bowed in something akin to shame. Even with the bend, he was taller than the other, looking into eyes that were looking away.

MacCready had given up eye contact once Kamil started closing in. With others, he gave off that strong, warm persona; stern, direct, but kind. When it’s just them, the posing tends to fall. His own frustrations still bubbled, but he pulled that pot off the stove, reaching to push against Kamil’s chest with both hands - as if he could correct the man’s mood by fixing his posture. “You did what you could, alright? You can’t save everyone out here.” It wasn’t until he felt Kamil’s inhale pushing against his palms did he question his actions. He wouldn’t normally have his hands on someone, but Kamil was so physically there, so present, that reacting in kind felt like the only way to properly respond.

Surprisingly, Kamil’s larger hands wrapped around MacCready’s wrists, keeping them where they were. For once, he was the first to look completely away, his scarred cheek turned to face him. Through his hands, MacCready could feel the supposed start of words as swift breaths in, but each one died in silence, leaving slowly. Low and rough, he hummed a response. MacCready’s arms were freed from his grip. Slowly, Kamil rolled each shoulder before settling them back, and turned to leave again. This time, MacCready jogged around him, pushing against his chest again. Kamil’s look was questioning - hesitant, but not offended. His arms half-lifted, bent at the elbow, hands flexing and unsure about what he could do next.

For both their sakes, MacCready swallowed his next words. His hands stayed where they were, this time a bit higher, heels of his palms digging into swells of muscle. Thick brows furrowed, Kamil tried to read some sense of what was going on from MacCready’s expression, but found nothing. Finding a slight twinge of annoyance at his own inaction, he reached up fully and wrapped his arms around the smaller man, pulling him - albeit gently - into a hug. The warmth of nearly full contact was as soothing as before, his chin settling on a slightly bony shoulder.

All MacCready could narrow in on was the heat in Kamil’s thick arms, seeping through his coat into his back, or the dense resistance of being pressed against the man’s chest. His own hands moved, shifting from Kamil’s chest to wrap around and settle on his sides, elbows still cocked. Background processes still running, tactics and commonwealth courtesy, MacCready froze-- if anyone caught them here, in the open, vision blocked, they’d both be dead with a single bullet.

Kamil felt MacCready lock up and pulled back, concern overruling anything else. Feeling his palm itch for the weight of a rifle stock, he pulled his gun from his side, leaning in close to Kamil like he would cover. Once each side was sufficiently swept over visually, he sighed, letting the tension bleed from him again. He’d found himself leaning against Kamil’s chest more fully, the man bearing his weight with ease, one hand settled lazily on his lower back. Tilting his head back, he looked up at Kamil, seeing mostly nothing but chin. “You good?” he asked, slightly slurred with one half of his mouth skewed against Kamil’s fatigues. He felt more than heard the response. “Yeah.”

Pulling himself back again was a bit like getting out of bed after a perfect night’s sleep, gravity somehow shifting sideways, drawing him into and against Kamil with some strength. Either that -- or the hand on his back slipped down, falling off him, no longer holding him close. Either way, he stretched, as if having just woken up. Side-eyeing Kamil, he smirked. “When we get back to the Rocket, we’re gonna talk.”

“Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bet you were expecting smut, weren't you?
> 
> it's cool, though. starting to get more cozy with Kamil's mindset.  
> maybe things'll get a little longer than 1k per, after this chapter.


End file.
